TMI?

Hi, this is Bryn. I know, I just jumped in here and started writing without introducing myself. As a person who struggles mightily with self-worth, you may have to ask pointed questions to learn more, but if you ask, and I feel like you care, I’ll tell you anything. I’m an open book if you’ve earned it.

I used to just be an open book. Unfortunately for me though, that meant that I spent all my time living other people’s lives and versions of myself, instead of living my own life. Now that I’m a grown ass woman (don’t tell the others!) and have had many conversations with Leslie, I’m beginning to believe that I’m allowed to have my own opinion and if people don’t like it, they are welcome to come have an adult conversation about it, or they are welcome to fuck right off. I don’t have a lot of in-between on that anymore. Too many people have tricked me into believe their lies, but again, I must out myself on culpability. That’s tricky though because I feel strongly that the believer isn’t the culprit the liar is. However, when “I love you” begins to feel and sound like a lie and I don’t say anything about it, that’s where I become part of the problem. When I teach you how to treat me, and I am in a season of self-hatred, then chances are, the ways I am teaching you to love me aren’t going to be healthy or sustainable. I am (finally) beginning to believe that I am allowed to take up space, to make noise in the presence of others, that the ability to meld into any crowd is as much a trauma response as walking so quietly in my own house that I frighten people because they didn’t hear me coming down the hall.

It’s still such a process though, because so much of my trauma lives physiologically inside my body. Here’s an example; You know how when a bird flies away in fright, it often evacuates its bowel? Well, one of the fun ways my trauma shows up in my body is that whenever I need to take a shit and have that feeling, then my stomach butterflies go crazy and my heart starts to race, because my body, it thinks that because we have to shit, we’re probably also being hunted by a lion…in my fenced in yard, in my quiet little Christian town, with my 120lb guard dog next to me. It doesn’t matter what is happening outside my body, if inside my body it thinks that the entire cast of Jungle book is on it’s way and humans are a valid food source. So, in order to a)not shit myself on the spot and b)stave off the imminent panic attack, this leads to conversations (often out loud) I have with my body, saying things like, “Yes body, we need to shit, that’s what happens when we feed ourselves appropriately. I feel you body and I will look for danger, but when I don’t find it, maybe we can let the heart go back to normal?” This fun body byplay happens in reverse too! Say I’m needing to run to the store for one thing, I know exactly where it is in the store and everything. Just contemplating going to the store is enough to make my belly rumble and my butthole twitch. I’ll go try to get in the car, and my body will say “Mmmm maybe we should shit first, so that we can run faster when we’re being pursued by the grocery store hunters.” So I’ll go to the restroom and take a whatever my body wants to evacuate. Then I get back in the car and get to the store, and sometimes my body hits me again, before I even park, and sometimes she waits until I’m inside and on the other side of the store from the restroom, but inevitably I’m going to the toilet at the store, despite having just done so 10 minutes before at my own house. If I’m having a really bad time, and my anxiety is in full swing, it could be 2-6 more trips to the toilet. This is only one reason that I hate going to the store.

I’ve pulled into parking lots and just noped right back out again because just looking at the number of people and cars almost made me shit myself in my car.

Don’t even get me started on food. I’ve had some complicated relationships, but my relationship with food is still the most complex one in my life. When I start to go to therapy again, I’ll definitely be having that conversation tout sweet. What I do know, is that I love food. I love cooking it, preparing it for other people and having the opportunity to be creative in such a fulfilling way. Did you see what I did there? I’m hilarious, watch out.

So it turns out I may just ramble about myself when given the opportunity. This is new to me since I have been so used to taking up as little space and being as perfect as possible to be sure I earn love. What I hear about this site though, is that I can just be me and love me for me and write whatever I want (with my own cavate that it’s true, since the title of the site matters to me) and I don’t need to worry about whether you love me or not.

Facts are, if I don’t love me, I will never believe anyone else can either. Trust me, I checked, it’s true.